


welcome to starfucks can i take your order

by SEABlRD



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Enemies to Friends, M/M, Pre-Relationship, no baristas were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 02:33:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13378281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEABlRD/pseuds/SEABlRD
Summary: Anders is like a nice blond coffee: tall, blond (of course), probably has more caffeine in him than strictly necessary,bitterWorking in customer service certainly doesn't help with that last one andboy howdydoes he sure get Customers, sometimes. Sometimes those customers are white-haired elves who talk on the phone while they're ordering.





	welcome to starfucks can i take your order

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing for this pairing, which i have FALLEN IN LOVE WITH and its about time i contribute around here goddamn  
> and naturally it finished at exactly 5k more words than i originally intended, so there's that :/
> 
> anyway thank you to z (RavenZaphara) for being a filthy enabler bc this was 100% written thanks to our co-motivation as usual  
> also thanks to ContreParry who checked me for typos n stuff on discord god bless you
> 
> This is an urban fantasy AU, so things like elves, dwarves, qunari, magic, etc. all still exist even if they're not all mentioned at the same time! You might notice a trend in the baristas, for example ;)

“That’s not what I ordered.”

Anders looks up at the customer behind the monitor and blinks slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You punched in an espresso macchiato,” the customer, a white-haired elf with thick-rimmed glasses, points at the order screen. “I asked for an espresso cortado.”

Anders can already tell it’s going to be That Kind Of Monday. He takes a deep breath, feeling his Customer-Service-Smile waver, and releases it. “I know, sir, but I’m afraid our store doesn’t have a button on the register for a cortado. However, since it’s the same price as-“

“But you will make an espresso cortado and not an espresso macchiato, right?” The elf asks, pulling out a phone as it begins to ring.

“Yes, of course-” Anders replies but it cut short as the customer begins speaking into his phone rapidly, in another language. A little dumbstruck, he picks up an espresso cup and begins marking down the order. “Uh, if I could just get your name, sir?”

The customer holds up a single finger in the universal ‘give me a goddamn second here’ gesture, and Ander’s CSS drops entirely. The small line building up behind Mr. Cortado causes the barista to wince and frantically gesture at his coworker, a cheerful elf girl named Merrill, to open the second register. 

Anders’ grip tightens around cup in his hand to keep himself from doing something unwise, like launching himself across the counter to punch the  _ delightful _ customer in the face. 

“Would you like anything else with that, sir?” he asks, pasting on his CSS in one last effort. A sharp look is sent his way as the elf barks a ‘Varania, I’ll call you back later’ into the phone and hangs up. Anders takes another deep breath. “Your name, sir?”

“It’s Fenris,” the elf, Fenris, states as he gives Anders a _ look _ over the rim of his glasses, revealing a pair of shockingly green eyes. He puts three dollars on the counter and makes his way to the pick-up area. 

The sharpie flies across the cup’s surface as Anders hastily writes down the name, picking up the coins and putting them into the register. He doesn’t bother calling the man back for his twenty cents change, tossing it into the tip jar. He moves to hand off the cup when he notices what he wrote on the side of it.

… Well, that ‘F’ sure does look like a ‘P’... and the ‘r’ and ‘i’ sort of blur together….. Should he fix it? He glances at Garrett, the barista on bar duty. The guy is quite tall, built like a tank, with a booming voice that always reads the name on cups at face-value. You just can’t miss a man like that. Anders decides not to fix the name.

A few more customers pass before he hears The Cup being handed off and he struggles to keep a straight face.

“Double espresso cortado for Penis?” Garrett shouts distractedly, holding up the cup even as he begins the next drink with his other hand. “I have a drink here for  _ Penis _ ?”

A loud curse in that foreign language reaches Anders, who turns to watch as Fenris stomps up to the pick-up. “What did you call me?” He hisses, and Garrett finally looks at the cup he’s holding.

“Uh…” Garrett reads the name scribbled in sharpie with an apologetic expression as he realizes what he was shouting. “That’s… that’s what’s written on the cup, sir.”

“It’s  _ Fenris _ ”, he hisses after a long string of foreign curses, presumably something insulting Garrett’s parentage, and snatches the cup out of Garrett’s hand, spilling some of the drink in his haste, which is a shame since there isn’t much in an espresso to begin with. Garrett turns to squint at Anders accusingly. 

“It’s my handwriting!” Anders defends, holding his hands up in a shrug. “I write like a doctor, you know that!” 

“Usually I would agree, but that shitty grin on your face leads me to believe otherwise.” Garrett grumbles as he continues making the drinks. “And you let me take the heat for it!”

Anders lets himself have a little laugh while Merrill frowns at him disapprovingly. The upward twitch of her lip betrays her, though, and she has to cover her face to hold in her snort. 

They share a brief moment of ‘customers, right?’ and return to their registers. The rest of the hour passes without incident, and Anders finally gets the good news of the day.

“Hey Anders?” Kristoff, the manager, pokes his head out from the backroom. “Take your thirty.”

Fuck. Yes. He grabs a cup and scribbles down his own drink and tosses it haphazardly at Garrett, who catches it with a ‘hey!’. He pulls his apron off without untying it and balls it up into the shelf under the register, slides around Merrill, and leaves the floor. He grabs his phone charger from his backpack and heads to the corner table, where he knows the only outlet in the store is.

And is brought up short by the sight of Fenris,  _ the _ Fenris from before, sitting at the table, book in hand. The elf looks at the charger in his hand and gives him a raised eyebrow. A challenge. Anders’ can feel his blood pressure rising.

This Is War, of course.

\-----

Anders wasn’t expecting him to come back the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that, either. Yet, somehow, every day for the rest of the week Fenris has come in and ordered his espresso cortado, sat at the corner table reading a book, and waited for Anders’ thirty minute break to be over before leaving, meaning that Anders never could charge his phone.

You just don’t do that to people in good conscience, and Anders is convinced that Fenris is a demon from hell sent to punish him for mistakes he made in a past life.

It would be understandable if Fenris had a device to charge, like a computer, or his own phone. Or an e-reader, even! But no, the elf takes up the table with the only outlet in the store and reads a paper book. 

Anders, for his part, has purposefully spelled Fenris’ name wrong in as many conceivable ways possible. It’s a slow day today, so he decides to forgo the pretense of writing badly and writes ‘PENIS’ in big block letters. With hearts and sparkles around it. Have fun with that one, you son of a broodmother.

Fenris doesn’t even grace the cup with a glance, downing the cortado like a shot and leaving the cup on the table. Anders huffs in annoyance. The effort he put into making that masterpiece, and his audience ignores it! The gall!

He isn’t reading his book today, looking out the window distractedly. He plays with the empty cup absentmindedly, almost tipping it over a few times. Anders crosses his arms dejectedly, leaning back against the counters.

“He isn’t glaring at you,” Merrill remarks, smiling up at Anders. “Maybe he forgives you for writing his name badly all the time!”

“He didn’t even look at it today.” Anders scoffs, toeing the edge of the floor mat. “Whatever. It’s fine! Maybe he’ll finally leave so I can charge my phone, for once.”

“Did you want him to look at it?” Merrill asks, tilting her head like a confused puppy. “Is it because you spent a lot of time drawing on it for him?”

… Anders chooses not to think too hard about what Merrill is implying.

He watches as Fenris spots something, some _ one _ , outside and waves at them, finally picking up his book. An elf woman walks in, pushing the door open and waves at Fenris before making her way to the counter. Anders jumps into action and takes up his spot behind the register, pasting on his CSS.

“Hello, miss! What can we get for you today?” he greets with a little wave.

“Just a latte, please, and nothing else. Thank you.” She replies, taking out her wallet and producing a credit card.

Anders rings her up and activates the card reader. “Of course. And your name?” He asks, sharpie ready.

“Varania.” the woman states, tapping her card against the machine. Once it beeps, she gives Anders a smile and heads to the pick-up area.

Varania… He must have heard that somewhere before, because Anders recognizes it. He never met the woman before, so he can’t recognize her as an acquaintance… A mystery for another day, he assumes.

He almost thinks today might be a good day when Varania returns, face red, holding a tiny espresso cup.  _ The _ espresso cup. It finally registers in his mind where he heard of a Varania before, and the only thing that runs through Anders’ mind in the calm before the storm is ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’.

“Ex _ cuse _ me?” Varania hisses, shoving the tiny cup at Anders with a viciousness he didn’t expect from such a tiny woman. “Are you the one who wrote this?”

Anders puts his hands up, partially in a placating gesture and partially in self-defense, and offers her his sweetest CSS. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I-”

“Do you see what it says? Are you allowed to write things like this on people’s cups?! This is inappropriate! I want to speak to your manager!”

Kristoff, with the impeccable timing that can only come from superhuman ‘customer complaint’ senses honed over many years, appears behind Anders like the vengeful god of unhappy managers. Anders glances over his shoulder at the man and swallows audibly. There’s a reason why Kristoff is called ‘the Hammer of Justice’ amongst the baristas, and it’s not because he’s a particularly forgiving guy.

“Anders, what is the problem here?” Kristoff demands, a tone that brooks no argument. “What did you do this time?”

“Why are you assuming  _ I _ did something?” Anders protests before wilting under the familiar weight of Kristoff’s judgemental stare. How many times before had he been on the receiving end of that look? Anders briefly considers that maybe, perhaps,  _ he _ is the reason Kristoff is known as ‘the Hammer of Justice’. 

“This man has been writing  _ profanity _ on my brother’s cup for the past week!” Varania explains, holding out the offending cup for Kristoff to take. Which he does, turning it to look at the offense in question. There, in the bright blue sharpie Anders is known for using, he reads the clear and unmistakable ‘PENIS’, complete with hearts and sparkles.

“... May I speak to your brother, miss?” Kristoff asks, as patiently as he can. Varania nods and turns to the corner table. Meanwhile, Kristoff gives Anders a look that just screams ‘you are in SO much trouble young man’. 

Anders, meanwhile, runs his tongue over his teeth and mourns the missed opportunity of writing ‘vagina’ on Varania’s cup. If only he’d known who he was dealing with… Go hard or go home, after all. 

“Get that look off of your face, Anders.” Kristoff rumbles, nudging Anders pointedly. “You are in a LOT of trouble. You’re lucky she didn’t decide to just take this straight to head office.”

Anders snorts turning into Kristoff’s shoulder to hide his grin. “What’re they gonna do, spank me?” 

“No, but  _ I _ might.”

Anders jumps at the sudden sound of Fenris’ voice, much closer than he anticipated, and whirls on him furiously. Fenris gives him a subtle smirk, standing just behind Varania, who glares up at him with her arms crossed.

Frantically pointing at Fenris, Anders turns to Kristoff with a kicked-puppy look “That’s workplace harassment, right? Can I kick them out? Please?”

“Can I ask you what happened, sir?” Kristoff completely bypasses Anders’ begging, addressing Fenris directly. “It would be best to get both sides of the story in order to make a fair judgement.”

“Understandable, of course. It began earlier this week when I ordered an espresso cortado-”

“Which we don’t have a button for.” Anders interjects, eyeing Kristoff meaningfully. The manager pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a slow inhale, already seeing where this is going.

“As you informed me.” Fenris agrees, unfolding his arms and brings them to his chest, picking at the corners of his nails. “I then paid and went to wait for my drink, when-”

Anders shakes his head violently, almost losing his hairnet. “No, no, you missed the part where you picked up your phone and ignored me when I asked for your name. Three times, I might add!”

“ _ Two _ times,” Fenris hisses, “after which, I found out you spelled my name wrong anyway. In a very insulting manner.”

“That’s just what my handwriting looks like!” Anders defends, snatching today’s cup from Kristoff’s hand and turning it so that the name faces Fenris. “If I was  _ really _ trying the first time, it would have looked like  _ this  _ from the start!”

Kristoff and Varania take a step back and watch as the two of them bicker over the cup, side eyeing each other with a silent question: is he always like this? The answer is ‘yes’ for Anders, and ‘surprisingly, no’ for Fenris. 

“I wasn’t aware your store policy is to hold petty grudges and make jokes about genitals like a twelve year old.”

“I wouldn’t make dick jokes if my customer didn’t  _ act _ like one in the first place!”

Kristoff eventually has enough and steps between them, putting a hand on Anders’ chest and pushing him back slightly, the way one would push a nosy cat away from fragile vases. 

“Alright, I think I’ve heard enough here, Anders.” He states.

“Hang on,” Varania says, walking around behind Fenris. Her eyes glint like the hunting lioness that she is. “What I’m getting from this is that you,” she pokes Fenris’ shoulder, “were rude to an employee in customer service, received the correct order anyway, and not only did you get a joke name on your cup, you also didn’t bring it up with the manager once in the whole week? And you came back every day of the week anyway?”

Fenris looks supremely uncomfortable all of a sudden, looking everywhere except at his sister. “I had assumed it would be a one-time incident.” He shrugs. “Apparently I was wrong.”

“Miss Varania, I am more than glad to take disciplinary action against my barista,” Kristoff tries again but is shushed by the tiny elf.

“With all due respect, I’m not done.” She snaps, eyes never leaving Fenris’ increasingly apprehensive expression. “You worked in customer service, didn’t you, dear brother? Are you so quick to forget how you felt toward customers, at the time?”

“Varania-”

“Did you forget that I, also, am working in customer service? Would you be rude like that to me, too?”

“You were calling me, I had to answer the phone-”

“That’s not an excuse and you know it!”

Anders watches in dazed amazement as the world’s most unlikely scenario unfolds before his eyes. The customer, who is Always Right, is. For once. Wrong. And being chewed out by his tiny sister. Anders must have been very good in a past life to deserve such a treat.

He almost misses the final verdict but manages to tune in just in time to hear Kristoff and Varania come to an agreement: Anders would make Fenris free drinks for the rest of the week,  _ named properly _ , and Fenris would make a formal and sincere apology. It’s not the revenge Anders dreamed of since monday, but it will have to do.

Varania pulls Fenris by the hand back to the corner table and Kristoff pulls Anders into the backroom. The man falls into the chair behind his desk with a huff, putting his head in his hands.

“Why have I not fired you yet?” he asks, sighing.

“Is it because you love me?” Anders offers, batting his lashes at him sweetly. 

Kristoff stares at him blankly for a solid five seconds before responding, completely deadpan. “Anders, get back on the floor.”

\-----

The new week finally rolls around, and thus begin the reparations. Anders’ eyes flick up to the door when the bell chimes and he watches as Fenris shuffles in, looking around as though Varania might pop out from behind the counter to yell at him again.

As the elf comes up to the register Anders hands him an espresso cup, properly marked with ‘FENRIS’ written in big block letters. There are no hearts or sparkles, this time. Fenris looks at the name and hands the cup back with a raised eyebrow. 

“The usual, I assume?” Anders asks, already punching in for an espresso macchiato. Fenris just nods, fiddling with his wallet as Anders hands the cup to Merrill on the bar. 

Fenris produces three dollars and holds them out for Anders to take, but the he refuses it, remembering his half of the deal. The elf shrugs and puts it in the tip jar instead.

“I apologize for my behavior, last Monday.” Fenris states before he leaves. It comes out rushed, as though he meant to say it before he lost the nerve. “I should not have answered the phone while I ordered, nor should I have been rude concerning the drink. You clearly know what you’re doing, considering I have gotten the right drink all week.”

It’s the most Fenris has ever said to him that wasn’t an argument, and Anders doesn’t trust himself to say something that isn’t sarcasm, so he just shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise. Fenris squints at him before nodding, seemingly content with the response, and moves to the pick-up area.

The rest of the day progresses as usual, with Fenris sitting at the corner table and hogging the outlet. Anders’ thirty minute break already passed, so Fenris simply hangs around for a few hours to read and then leaves.

Tuesday goes about the same, with the only difference being Fenris’ apology, shorter today than the previous one. Which is fine, Anders thinks. He got the message across the first time, so it doesn’t really matter. 

Wednesday is when things change up: The morning was unexpectedly busy and Anders hadn’t taken his break yet. Fenris waits in line for a good few minutes before finding himself at the register, and he gives Anders an apologetic look as the barista winces at the lineup behind him.

“Good luck,” Fenris says today instead of his apology, attempting to move around a woman in a jogging suit with a baby carriage. The woman sneers at him as she forces her way through the crowd to get to the door, the baby in the carriage crying out miserably at the jolting movements.

It takes an hour for the peak to dwindle, at which point Anders is more than ready for his break. When Kristoff appears in the doorway, Anders already has his apron half off and is pulling his phone charger out of his bag.

“Anders?” Kristoff calls. “Take your thirty-” but Anders is gone before Kristoff can even finish his sentence.

Determined, Anders approaches the corner table with his phone in one hand and his charger in the other. Unsuspecting, Fenris doesn’t look up until it’s too late and Anders is practically on top of him, reaching around the shorter man to plug in his charger.

“What are you doing?! Get off!” Fenris sputters, pushing Anders away. 

“You’ve been hogging the wall plug for too long! It’s my turn now, I deserve this!” Anders exclaims, parking himself firmly in the chair across from Fenris and looking him directly in the eye as he connects the wire to his phone’s port. 

Fenris exhales through his nose, the sound coming out in a hiss, and nods. “Fine. But you had better not talk, I  _ am _ trying to finish this book.”

“Duly noted.” 

Anders manages to go twenty five minutes in silence, scrolling through social media to pass the time, before he finally cracks.

“I’m sorry for writing ‘penis’ on your cup.” He blurts out, and Fenris jumps at the sudden sound. Anders continues, “It was rude and unprofessional of me, even if it  _ was _ a mistake the first time. I didn’t know Garrett was going to shout it like that... Well, okay, maybe I did.”

“It’s alright.” Fenris shrugs, and then something truly strange happens. He gives Anders a smile. Not a smirk, or a grin; a smile. It’s small and barely noticeable. “Truthfully, once I calmed down, I thought it was funny.”

Having mentally bluescreened immediately on seeing that upturned lip, Anders stammers some sort of response and beats a hasty retreat, nearly forgetting his charger before Fenris hands it to him. In the backroom, as he’s pulling his apron back on, he can only think of one thing.

_ Oh no. _

\-----

It’s Thursday. Exactly one day after Fenris smiled at Anders, and Anders’ subsequent internal death. Anders’ shift is almost over and he nervously glances at the door, but Fenris doesn’t show up.

Did the elf not want his free drink today? Did he find another coffeeshop, with a nicer barista and better coffee? Is he sick? Did he forget? Did Anders finally scare him off?

“You’re still waiting for him, huh?” Bethany, Garrett’s sister, asks as she leans over the counter. “Garrett told me about him. He said you and this elf made a  _ scene _ on the floor, and now you have to repay him. Wasn’t he supposed to come in hours ago?”

Anders nods, propping his chin in one hand and leaning against the register. “I don’t think he’s coming today, but it’s fine.”

Bethany looks between the door and Anders and grins. “You like him, don’t you?”

He slips and nearly hits his head on the monitor screen. “What?! No! What gave you that idea? He was rude to me, and I insulted him back! We had a whole argument about it!”

Bethany nods thoughtfully, the grin never leaving her face. 

Only a handful of customers come in during his shift, including one of the store’s regulars. His name is Varric, he’s a little tall for a dwarf, and he never buys coffee. Without fail, he approaches the counter and orders the largest hot chocolate, with whipped cream and chocolate chips.

“So what happened on sunday?” Varric asks as he waits for his drink. Anders sighs, leaning over the counter to talk more closely.

“This customer was rude to me last week and wasn’t happy with my service or whatever, and he finally brought it to the manager.” Anders explains. “You weren’t even here that day, how do you know about it?”

“I have my sources.” Varric says conspiratorially, winking. So Garrett, most likely. 

“... Right.” Anders rolls his eyes and hands Varric his hot chocolate.

“He didn’t get you in too much trouble, right? You still have your job?”

Anders laughs and shakes his head. “Kristoff would never fire me, he loves me too much. Don’t worry about it, Varric. I just had to make him free drinks for the week, that’s all.”

“If you’re sure.” Varric relents, grabbing his drink and setting up at the window table. 

The end of Anders’ shift finally rolls around and he reluctantly packs his stuff away as Bethany unpacks hers. He hands her the keys to the register and hangs up his apron with a sigh.

“Maybe he’ll come in tomorrow, Anders.” Bethany reassures him, patting him gently. 

“Maybe.”

Anders finishes packing up and heads out, not bothering to grab another drink for himself, to wait at the bus stop. Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait too long, mere minutes pass before the bus shows up. On time, for once, which is rare. 

He picks a window seat and tiredly watches the store as the rest of the passengers board, smiling at the sight of Bethany and Merrill chatting behind the counter. He almost misses the customer going in, but as they take off their navy blue beanie and shake out fluffy white hair he’s startled awake.

Fenris! So he came after all. Anders considers the pros and cons of running back into the store to greet him, but wouldn’t that just be strange? His shift is over anyway, and who says Fenris even wants to see him?

The decision is made for him as the bus doors close and it peels away from the curb. He sits back down (when did he stand up?) and pouts at the window. He almost laughs when he sees Fenris approach the counter, looking around in confusion. Bethany must have said something because the elf hurries back to the door and opens it, looking left and right down the street.

At the very last second Fenris catches sight of him in the window and Anders almost waves, but the bus turns a corner and the store is no longer in his line of sight. Anders slumps down into his seat and curses his own timing, kicking the bottom of the empty seat in front of him. And then breaks into a foolish smile.

_ He was looking for me _ . The thought floats around Anders’ head for the rest of the afternoon until he goes to sleep.

\-----

Friday is a bad day, just on principle. Friday is the day the office building down the street has their board meetings, and also happens to be the day that the Boss, Meredith, gets her coffee. She’s a tall, imposing woman much in the same way Slenderman is a tall, imposing cryptid. She’s about as pleasant as Slenderman, too. Actually, Anders would rather take his chances with Slenderman.

Sometimes she sends her tired looking secretary Orsino to fetch the coffee for her, but sometimes the she-devil Herself decides to terrorize the store in person. It’s really a coin flip, and each week is a surprise.

Today is a bad surprise.

The second Meredith shows her villainous mug in the store window, Anders braces himself for the worst fifteen minutes of his week. She must smell his fear because her head turns to him reminiscent of the velociraptors from Jurassic Park. She not only cuts in front of the whole line, short as it is, parking herself in front of a frazzled student, but also barks her order from behind the customer Anders is already serving.

“A large black coffee.” She announces, crossing her arms and sticking her nose in the air. “The freshest you have.”

Anders hastily accepts the bill his current customer gives him and hands off the change without breaking eye contact with Meredith. “All of our coffee is fresh, Ma’am.” he informs her.

“ _ How _ fresh?”

“We’ve re-brewed all the batches about five minutes ago.”

She takes a single, long step toward the counter and leans over it, making sure Anders can smell the exact brand of mouthwash she used this morning. “Brew a new batch, then.”

Anders’ eyes bug out of his head. He must look like an idiot, standing there with his mouth open, but really? What can you say to that? “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we can’t just brew a whole new batch for a single customer-”

“Yes you can.” She says, settling back on her heels with a self-satisfied look. Beside him, Bethany opens the second register and hurriedly passes the other customers, already sensing trouble.

“It’s fresh though!” Anders protests. “Five minutes is hardly enough time for a batch to grow cold or stale, Ma’am. If you want the absolute freshest possible coffee, I can offer you pour-over instead.”

“I don’t have time to wait for pour-over.”

Anders almost vaults the counter. Kristoff might love him, but physically fighting a customer over a cup of coffee is probably not going to endear Anders to him in the slightest. 

“Pour-over takes, like, three minutes!” Anders grinds out, clenching the sharpie in his hand hard enough to make the plastic creak. “You’ll wait longer for the batch, which takes  _ five _ .”

“Are you denying a paying customer what she wants?” Meredith challenges, sneering at Anders down the bridge of her nose. “I should contact your head office about this.”

“I’m offering you a better option!”

She pulls out her telephone and begins punching in numbers slowly, smirking at Anders with the ugliest smug look he’d ever seen on a person. Does she think that’s going to change his mind?

A hand slaps a five dollar bill on the counter, startling Anders out of his staredown with Meredith. Fenris slowly takes his hand off the bill, watching Meredith almost disinterestedly. What is he doing? Anders opens his mouth to ask what the  _ void _ the elf is thinking but Fenris beats him to it.

“I’d like to order one black pour-over coffee for this lovely woman, please.” He states, putting his hand back into the pocket of his hoodie. He must have just come in, because he’s still wearing the same navy blue beanie from yesterday and hadn’t taken it off yet.

Meredith sputters indignantly. “Excuse me? Who are you?” She demands, phone threat forgotten. “This is none of your business! I want fresh coffee, not pour-over!”

“This became everybody’s business the second you decided to make it a public spectacle,” Fenris tells her, shrugging. “Are you going to deny a free coffee? Surely any other educated woman like yourself would accept a gift graciously.”

Anders feels himself grin like a dumbass but doesn’t stop himself. 

“Furthermore,” Fenris presses, stepping in front of her and almost pushing her out of his way. “Your secretary is my sister’s night class professor, and I know for a fact that he orders you pour-over knowing you would throw a fit for  _ five minute old coffee. _ ”

Meredith finally glances at her surroundings, seeing the other customers watching her with judgement and hatred in their eyes. Alright, maybe not  _ so _ much, but Anders can’t help but feel vindicated to watch her be taken down a peg. Maybe half a peg. She’s certainly lost a bit of her arrogant look, at least, coming across more as cornered.

She takes the loss about as well as one would expect from her, with eyes like flamethrowers and muttering about calling her lawyer. Bethany abandons the register to help Garrett on bar, preparing the pour-over as quickly as she can.

Anders turns his wide smirk on Fenris, who seems equally pleased. “Do you really know her secretary?” Anders can’t help but ask. 

“Not personally, but he  _ is _ Varania’s night class professor.” Fenris admits with a chuckle. “I mostly took a wild guess. It’s good that it paid off.”

That’s an understatement. Fenris likely saved him another ten minutes of arguing; Meredith might not have followed through with her ridiculous phone threat but she would have  _ definitely _ thrown a fit in the store about it. 

“So what can I get you? Same as usual?” Anders asks, already grabbing a fresh espresso cup. 

“Yes please.” Fenris nods, taking out his three dollars and putting them directly into the tip jar. “I didn’t get a chance to see you yesterday.”

“You came in after my shift.” Anders explains, feeling the same thrill as yesterday, knowing for sure that Fenris was looking for him, now.

“I apologize, I was held up and then missed my bus.” The elf explains, shaking his head. “I… would have liked to see you. You are the one who owes me free drinks, after all.”

Anders laughs a bit, leaning against the counter toward Fenris almost absentmindedly. “If that’s how you’re taking it, you’ll miss your free drinks this weekend.”

“How so?”

The barista makes a  _ tsk _ sound as he shrugs. “I have the next three days off, which is great for me but not so great for your free drinks.”

“Ah.” Fenris turns and Anders can’t read the emotion on his face. “That’s an unfortunate turn of events, then.”

“Not for me though.”

Fenris chuckles again, showing that little smile that Anders’ heart finds so interesting. “No, I suppose not.”

Another customer comes in before Anders can respond and Fenris is already moving to the pick-up area. Anders takes a second to pout at the loss before taking the new customer, missing Bethany and Garrett’s shared  _ look _ , the knowing smile they hide in their hands and behind their shoulders. 

When the morning peak finally dies down Kristoff appears in the doorway to the backstore, and Anders can’t help but perk up like an excited dog.

“Anders-”

“I’m already punching out!” He says as he finishes logging out of his register. Kristoff seems amused.

“You could at least pretend you want to do your job, you know?”

Anders sticks his tongue out at him and pulls off his apron as a reply. He already has his charger in hand and heads to the corner table. Fenris sees him coming this time and moves over with a roll of his eyes, making just enough room for Anders to reach the outlet without climbing over him like last time.

Once the charger situation is settled, Anders takes the seat across from Fenris and opens as many social media apps as he can focus on at once. However, it seems his tablemate has a different idea, today.

“You will not be here for the next three days, Anders?” Fenris asks, hesitant. Anders looks up at him in surprise.

“... How do you know my name?” He asks back, knowing for a fact that he’d never given it to him, too busy silently feuding with him for the past week to bother with introductions.

Fenris doesn’t answer, instead tapping a spot below his collarbone. It takes Anders a few seconds to understand what he means.

“My… My nametag? Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry.” Anders shakes his head to clear it. “I must need caffeine if I’m this tired already,” he huffs. “But, back to your question, yeah. I mean, no? Anyway, I’m not here for the next three days.”

“You still owe me coffee for the rest of the week.” 

Anders winces, looking away. He hates to go back on his word, but this long weekend was planned in advance. “I’m sorry about that, really. I’m sure one of the other baristas would be more than glad to make your drink free for you. They already know about the situation anyway.”

“But was this not  _ your _ punishment?” Fenris gives him a pointed look, the hint of a smile growing on his lips. Anders suddenly becomes suspicious.

“I suppose so, but it could also just be the store compensating you for my shitty service.” 

Fenris glances out the window, deep in thought. Thinking he must want to leave the matter there, Anders goes back to scrolling on his phone. A few minutes go by, then Fenris speaks up again.

“Then you should buy me coffee tomorrow.” He states. “Not necessarily here. Well, only if you are not busy with something else.”

Anders blinks slowly, not daring to breathe. Or maybe he  _ should _ breathe; clearly he’s lacking oxygen, because he could swear he just heard Fenris ask him to…

“Are you asking me to go out with you? For coffee?” Anders’ response leaves him in a huff, having been taken off-guard and sounding a lot more scandalized than he should be. “The guy who spent a week writing mean things on your coffee cup?”

Fenris’ ears drop slightly, the hit of smile dropping as well. “I… If you’re  _ interested _ , of course-” he begins, trepidation leaking into his voice.

Backpedalling quickly, Anders blurts out another answer. “You realize I already work in coffee, right? Can’t I get you something else?” He searches his mind quickly. “Like, I don’t know, dinner, maybe?”

It’s Fenris’ turn to look thunderstruck. His ears slowly perk up and a faint blush takes over his expression and Anders wonders how he could have ever been mad at him when he looks like that.

“I can be…  _ amenable _ to that, yes.” He says, picking up his book and opening it to his marked page, unable to meet Anders’ eyes.

Anders feels the tug at his mouth but can’t bring himself to hide the goofy smile he’s sure is spreading over his face. He spends the last half of his break reading through his messages, distracted until he hears Kristoff calling for him.

His phone pings just as he’s slipping it into his pocket, and he takes it out to glance at the notification.

A friend request from a certain Fenris Letourneau. What a pretentious-sounding name. He hits ‘accept’ of course. Peeking out the crack in the door he spots Fenris holding a phone of his own, and he has it plugged into the outlet. 

With his dumb grin never leaving his face, Anders punches back in.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading i love you!!
> 
> those who know me know im a _big slut_ for urban fantasy AUs so maybe i'll revisit this kinda verse one day :3c


End file.
